I Have a Rendezvous with Death

One evening over a year or so ago I had a enlightening phone conversation with my father. At that time, he was in declining health so every new thing he shared about himself with me was a gift. Our conversation started with his per usual repetitive WW2 experiences, which I always enjoyed listening to. During WW2 my father served in an Army tank division. His unit deployed to the Battle of the Bulge without him because of an injury he sustained while working on a tank stateside.

Cleaning my desk drawers this weekend I came across an envelope with a scribbled list of favorite things he wanted to share with me.

The Creamation of Sam Mcgee, by Robert W. Service:




The Wonderful One Hoss-Shay

There is a practical lesson to be got out of the story. Observation shows us in what point any particular mechanism is most likely to give way. In a wagon, for instance, the weak point is where the axle enters the hub or nave. When the wagon breaks down, three times out of four, I think, it is at this point that the accident occurs. The workman should see to it that this part should never give way; then find the next vulnerable place, and so on, until he arrives logically at the perfect result attained by the deacon."

My father was a perfectionist with a capital P with anything he built or had built by others. Perhaps this is why he was drawn to that poem. I recall a time when he tore out and reinstalled our kitchen bay window because he didn't like the way the contractors had installed it.

I am most intrigued by this one - I Have a Rendezvous with Death, by Alan Seeger. Seeger fought and died in WW1 while serving in the French Foreign Legion. This poem was also a favorite of John F. Kennedy; he often asked his wife to recite it to him.

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air-
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath-
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

When Spring comes round again this year

And the first meadow-flowers appear. . .
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
My father passed away April 24, 2010, he was 88.

A song he loved from Man of la Mancha, To Dream the Impossible Dream: